


Forever and Always

by Siver



Series: Final Fantasy VI/Ghost Trick [9]
Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Alcohol, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, FFVI AU GT AU, Final Fantasy VI AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 12:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18590944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Final Fantasy VI AU. After the the cultist's tower something had to give. A meltdown and a chance to rebuild.





	Forever and Always

Lynne dozed against the wall. Missile was a loaf by her legs, his tail idly waving. Alma wished she could be as relaxed as they appeared to be. Everyone else had scattered themselves throughout the airship. Alma tried repeatedly to steer her thoughts away from the tower outside and from one man in particular. The mission was a success. Amelie’s father was safe and being looked after. They needed to leave, but as they prepared to do exactly that Memry had discovered a problem in the engines and now they were stuck while she dealt with it.

Her thoughts went back to the tower and the line of cultists circling round the front, their white robes and masks stark against the dark tower. Their worship of the Jester was plain as was their desire to join him. The disgust and loathing in Cabanela’s expression before they retreated back to the airship to plan their next move would stick in her memory.

She wasn’t sure what Cidgeon told him to convince him to stay as they arranged who would go and who would remain, but as a parent she thought she recognised something of his tone and posture. Regardless, to her surprise and relief Cabanela relented and stayed aboard the airship as well.

She wished that was enough. Oh, he’d accepted Memry’s invitation for some rounds of poker certainly. And, while he’d won a round and put up a fight in the rest it was clear he was preoccupied and his cheer while seeming sufficient for the others rang false in Alma’s ears. Despite Memry and Lynne’s efforts the game had a tense air around it. If Cabanela wasn’t enough on his own she’d had to reassure herself and Kamila that Amelie would be fine as well. No one would allow anything to happen to her—or face a far worse fate in Emma’s wrath, she’d added with a wry smile while she prayed she was correct.

It didn’t get much better when the party did return and they got the story of what happened while Amelie looked after her father. Cabanela had remained quiet and unreadable, which seemed worse to Alma. No fronts were attempted; he gave nothing and he left without a word when they finished talking.

Jowd hadn’t been much better, she thought with a sigh. He had been stone faced throughout and disappeared again. Alma didn’t have the energy to attempt that wall yet again.

There was a muffled sort of rumble. Thunder, thought Alma distantly. Missile yelped and she snapped to attention.

Lynne jerked from the wall. “What’s wrong, boy?”

 _“Something’s outside. Like a storm,”_ Missile whined. _“I hate those big booms!”_

Alma rose to her feet. “I’ll take a look.”

Missile’s ears flattened. _“I’ll come!”_

Alma gave him a fond smile. “I’ll be all right. Why don’t you stay with Lynne?”

_“Oh but, but… yes, Miss Alma.”_

Alma left the room and made her way out to the deck. She knew something was wrong before she even opened the door as a sense of foreboding washed over her. She cracked open the door, her hand going to the hilt of her sword and stopped dead to stare.

Cabanela stood at the deck rail facing the tower. She could only see his profile, and his attention appeared wholly fixed on the tower. His hand sliced through the air and a burst of lightning lanced into the tower followed swiftly by another. He growled and another larger lightning bolt crashed down leaving molten metal in its wake.

She knew he and those born to magic could feel it. She wondered if it was something like this. The air felt heavy and crackling. The scent of burnt metal, ozone and smoke filled her nose. She took a few cautious steps toward him.

Cabanela’s teeth bared; more lightning rained. There was an ominous creak and then part of the staircase broke away to dangle on twisted metal rail. He lifted both arms. Sparks danced around his hands. The air grew hot and as oppressive as she remembered the feeling before the worst of storms.

He cried out. The world went white. She jerked back, covering her eyes and still felt she could see light behind her eyelids. A deafening rumble and crack was followed by crashing and grinding. She slowly squinted her eyes open and stifled a gasp.

A large chunk off the top of the tower was gone and its remnants glowed red. Fires broke out in multiple places. Melted metal ran down the walls. As she watched another section of the outward stairs gave a tortured groan before falling away to crash below, bringing down yet more of the stairway and leaving the rest hanging. She wondered when it too would fall when her attention was taken once more by the remnants of the top as it fell in on itself in a slow burning collapse.

With a shudder, she tore her gaze away from the destruction toward Cabanela. His face was twisted with rage and horror and… Her feet took over where her brain remained stunned. She stepped slowly and cautiously toward him. Was it just possible she saw the barest beginnings of shame? Surely he couldn’t feel responsible for that thing. Or was this at his own power, she wondered.

Her pace quickened when she realized he was building himself up again. In the dying light, chest heaving and arms still raised he looked alien and remote, terrifying, and yet somehow faded in a way, pained and possibly even a bit afraid. Enough. The tower would continue to fall under its own weight now.

She slipped up to him and slid her arms around his rigid form. He trembled, she realized with some surprise and as she rested her head against his chest she heard his heart thud in his chest.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. She found the strangest small smile tugging at her lips. How odd, he really was human. “It’s okay,” she repeated.

Cabanela shuddered. His arms fell slowly, a feather touch against her before a deeper breath and they rested more firmly around her. She felt his nose in her hair and his breath in short bursts.

She steadied her breath, kept it slow and even. She pressed against him in a silent message to join her. Match her. Slowly he grew more still, his breath softer in her hair. They stood in each other’s embrace as the tower shuddered and groaned in a slow grinding collapse behind them.

Cabanela broke away first. His expression was unreadable as he stared at her.

“Are you—” Alma broke off as another voice sounded.

“All set to—Whoa.”

Alma peered around Cabanela. Memry stood near the door, staring wide-eyed at the wreckage. “What the heck happened?”

Cabanela spun round without a backward glance. “Take us awaaay,” he said and disappeared through the door inside.

“What was that all about?” Memry asked.

Alma glanced between the tower and her. “Please Memry. The sooner we get away from here the better.”

“I mean what did he do? Attack it?” Memry said as she approached the helm, while staring at the wreckage.

Alma made a noncommittal noise while crossing the deck intending to go back inside. Memry shot her a look and another at the tower.

“Oh,” she said quietly. Her tone strengthened as she took the wheel. “We’ll be out of here real quick.”

Inside, Alma stopped abruptly and leaned against the corridor wall as the full force of what she just witnessed settled in and left her legs shaking. That he lost control of his temper like that had been alarming in itself and the results… To think he could wield that much power.

She counted to four and breathed until she felt steadier. She went down the corridor then found herself veering to the steps further below deck. She’d been avoiding it, knew she had to keep a clear head, but there was nothing that needed doing right now. Maybe this once a little assistance wouldn’t go entirely amiss.

 

The bar top gleamed. Its keeper polished a glass, pausing only to fill a glass of wine for Alma—“Here you are Madam”—and resumed cleaning. Alma sipped her wine and half-watched him. It was strangely calming and she wondered where Memry found him and why he was willing to work aboard the airship. They were so often in danger. Then again, maybe that wasn’t much different from the rest of the world now.

Her thoughts drifted over the state of the world and what she just saw and back, always circling back to Cabanela. She asked for a refill, her eyes passing over the bar until she stopped with a start. How long had he been there? He wasn’t normally an easy man to miss, but there at the opposite end of the bar, sat Cabanela, quiet, his fingers wrapped around his glass, and shoulders slumped.

She frowned as he knocked back his glass of amber liquid—whiskey—she guessed, different from the wine he used to partake in, and gestured for another. It was strange to see him here at all; as far as she knew, like her, he had avoided drink.

A sad fondness welled at old memories. He always had been a lightweight after all. A darker thought struck her, and control: no, that wasn’t something he ever relished losing and now…

Her thoughts returned once more to the tower. His torment, his living nightmare flaunted for all to see. Her hand clenched around the stem of her wine glass. The _honour_ of becoming the Jester’s Shadow. A fate _wanted_ by those fools. A monument for everything that went wrong.

And now… now he looked so morose. It wasn’t a look that suited him. Right. She drained the rest of her glass—far too quickly, a part of her knew, but she ignored it—gestured at the barkeeper for the bottle, refilled her glass, squared her shoulders and marched over to Cabanela. She slipped onto the stool beside him.

“Do you need an ear?” she asked.

Cabanela’s fingers toyed with his glass, while his gaze fixed on seemingly nothing. “Nothin’ to fill it with, baby.” he said blandly.

“It doesn’t look like it to me.”

He took a sudden drink and set the glass down forcefully. He stared at his hands and sparks danced off his fingers before he clenched them. “You shouldn’t have had to seeee that, any of it.”

She thought of the neat row of cultists and the Jester. “Bringing that place down isn’t such a bad thing.”

“I lost control. I can’t afford that, not again.”

“This isn’t the same. You acted on your own will. That place, those people would be enough to upset anyone.” Maybe not quite so explosively, but she found she couldn’t blame him. She frowned. “You’re allowed to have feelings.”

Cabanela abruptly rose and stood stiffly, turned away from her, his hands still clenched. “You deserve better. Only the beeest.”

Alma rose too and touched his back, felt muscles tense. He was always so tense these days. Weren’t they all? But he wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to be light and free, dancing through life, a beautiful sight she’d never tire of. He deserved better.

“What I deserve is my choice to make. Will you look at me?”

He slowly turned. She slipped her hands up to his shoulders, narrow and always so elegant...

“This weight isn’t yours to bear alone.”

“Alma…”

“We’re here for you.” She looked up at him, taking in his tight expression, taking in the feel of him under her hands. “Per sempre ognor,” she murmured.

His breath hitched. “Always,” he said in a near whisper.

She was faintly aware of the fuzz at the edges of her thoughts, but that all seemed rather irrelevant. With a sudden certainty she knew there was only one thing she wanted and she slid a hand up behind his head with a gentle tug.

His eyes widened and some other thought tried to nudge at her. There was… something different. She cocked her head.

“Your eyes… like the skies just before the sun rises. Were they always this beautiful?”

He raised an eyebrow in a faint teasing sort of smile and an attempted lightness. “Of couuurse baby.”

Yes, some distant part of her confirmed the difference, but she ignored that as well. What she most wanted was to see his smile reach those eyes.

Closing her eyes, she kissed him. He stiffened briefly before melting into her touch, his hands coming up to pull her closer. This was good. This was right and the kiss he returned even better. Here was none of the Jester’s chill. Cabanela was warmth and life and light. When she had her fill she pulled back a bit to see him. His eyes searched hers.

“I left you,” he said, voice strained.

“You brought us back together.”

“I would do it again and again if I had to. Anything for you. I won’t see you parted from them again.”

“Nor you from us.”

“My Queen…” he breathed. “For as long you want me I’ll always be youuurs.”

“Our knight,” she said softly. Their too tired knight, she thought as she studied him. She longed for the days of careless laughter and when he would sing for them, when he moved freely with nothing forced. She wanted nothing more than to wipe away the tiredness and the fear and the pain.

She took his hand. “Come with me.” And with a small tug he followed after as she led him from the room. He would not be alone this night.

She guided him to a quiet corner of the airship, where stumbling slightly, she gathered together blankets, then pulled him down with her. Cabanela planted a soft kiss on her forehead before he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She tucked up under his chin and sighed, her thoughts melting away to focus only on the feel of him around her, until breathing together, they fell asleep tangled in each other’s embrace.

 

The barkeeper paused to look at the two nearly empty glasses at the end of the bar before resuming his tasks, leaving them to stand together.

 

Alma woke slowly and rubbed the grit from her eyes. She grimaced as memories of the previous night trickled slowly in; she’d drunk too much and clearly didn’t have the head for it anymore.

Another memory surfaced and she immediately sat up, her gaze flying to the empty patch of floor beside her. She buried her face in her hands with a muffled groan. Too much, too fast and she knew with a startling clarity that last night she’d meant every word, but what of him? What if she’d scared him off? Would she still feel the same now?

Well, she thought as took to her feet with a suddenness that startled even her. There was only one way to find out. He was most likely on the deck and she went that way.

Cabanela stood at the rail staring out at the sky when Alma exited. The wind of their passing ruffled his hair and coat. For a moment Alma wondered if she was still tipsy as she was struck by his appearance. He was beautiful, after everything he was still so beautiful.

“Good morning,” she said as she came up beside him. He turned his face to her—a good sign, she thought. “Last night…”

He snorted. “And theeere I spoke of control. Alma I—.”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “I have no complaints. But that my limits aren’t what they used to be,” she added with a wry smile. She frowned thoughtfully as she stared at him. So it hadn’t just been the rosy glow of the wine. Outside with a clearer mind it was obvious. His eyes were always dark, blue bordering on black. They’d lightened, more obviously blue now, maybe difficult to notice at a glance, but she couldn’t stop staring now.

“Your eyes _have_ changed.”

“I saw.”

“And they’re still beautiful,” she said firmly. “But how?”

Cabanela shrugged airily. “A side effect I suppooose. Not the first one, is it baby?”

Her eyes traced over the grey in his hair and she remembered when he first came back, new magic at his fingertips and the hints of grey at his temples. No it wasn’t. “Are you all right with it?”

“It’s not so baaad.”

But it was another change. What did it mean in the long term? She wanted to test last night’s activities once more, yes, but now she also wanted him close, to feel him, to know he was here and safe with them. Shake the feeling that he could fade from them.

She cupped his face with gentle fingers. “You know,” she said warmly, “your eyes aren’t all I remember, but I would like a clearer memory.” And she kissed him.

Once more he stiffened and she smiled against him. To catch him off guard twice? Unheard of. Then his arms circled her and pulled her closer. He breathed her name against her lips before returning the kiss. So much had changed, but this still felt right, still felt good, utterly and completely. She knew then she belonged in his arms and he in hers.

When they broke apart, she turned to stand by him and watch the skies drift past. He kept an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him.

Her thoughts went back to another time when she thought he had returned. She thought back to the first ball when they danced, when his hold on her hand was a little too tight and his arm around her waist tugging her too close. She’d chalked it up to the time apart until she extricated herself from him to retreat to the quiet and coolness of the balcony. The peace didn’t last long before he joined her once more. He’d put his arm around her then, speaking of how he’d missed her. She wanted to believe it was as the old days and could have convinced herself of such, if his fingers hadn’t dug in too deep and his hold tightened briefly before she pulled away, his touch still lingering for every second he could. He’d felt… possessive then, something she’d never felt from him, and it only grew worse.

Alma shook the memories from her mind. This wasn’t the tentative touch in fear of overstepping his bounds. It wasn’t the grasping of the Jester. This was just him, warm and secure. Different in many ways yet achingly the same in others.

“I hated myself for it,” she said, “but a part of me always missed you even when I thought you were him.”

His hand twitched against her shoulder. She covered it with her own. _Please stay._

“I understand why now,” she continued, “and I’m glad I could. You’re not him. You never were.”

He looked at her and held her gaze. There was a clear undercurrent of pain in his voice that otherwise came out even. “He came from me, baby.”

Goddesses, she thought, they left him alone for far too long. How long had he been stewing?

“He has nothing that makes you who you are.”

“And yeeet you thought he was me.”

She flinched and tried to take comfort from his hand still on her shoulder. “We made a terrible mistake. We never dreamed of there being a copy. The best we could hope for was that you’d been changed or controlled by that doctor.” She thought back to Narshe and Figaro and everything after. “I’ve made terrible mistakes,” she said.

He looked back at the passing clouds, his gaze distant. “You’re not the only one. All that he’s done…”

“You’re not responsible for his actions.”

“I can’t say it makes lookin’ at this face any easier.” There was a bitter twist to the smile he gave her. “Maybe these eeeyes will be good for something.”

Alma switched hands to wrap her arm around his back. “I always want to see you, however you look. We won’t be under his shadow forever.” She tried to keep her tone even, to keep the question out of her voice. “We will win.” They had to. They lost too much as was. After everything they couldn’t lose now, could they?

“Of couuurse we will. I’ll make sure of it, on that you can rely.”

“ _We’ll_ make sure of it,” Alma said firmly. “I don’t know what’s in our future. It’s… hard to imagine, but I’ll be at your side to face whatever comes.”

“And there will be a future.”

She leaned her head against him. “You’ve always held onto that, haven’t you? I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

His hand tightened on her shoulder, “No tiiime for that now, baby. We keep movin’ forward. That’s all.”

“Yes,” Alma said.

It wasn’t all. There was far too much to be all. But for now it was a start. They fell silent, gazing at the horizon. A step forward into the future, whatever it may bring.


End file.
